Laws of Simplicity
by Major Roon
Summary: Sequel to Relativity of Wrong
1. Prologue

A/N:

Right. Here we go! Laws of Simplicity - or The One with the Happy Ending, as I like to call it. As frustrating as this journey has been and still will be, I'm glad it's finally on its way to a proper resolution.

Once again, I'd like to thank all of you and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too.

Prologue:

Not Goodbye, Just 'So Long'

Sharon glanced at her watch as the elevator stopped again and opened its doors. She was going to be late, and she was never late, especially not when the new Chief of Police had summoned her.

Even though it was only Will Pope.

Whoever had pressed the call button for the elevator, she couldn't see for all the boxes, stepped in. "Sorry," he said as he nearly bumped into her. "Seven, please?"

"I'm headed that way," she said, recognizing Gabriel's voice.

"Oh, Captain Raydor?"

"Yes, Detective. Are you alright? Do you need help?"

"Nah, I'm good," he said, huffing and puffing. "And it's Lieutenant now."

Smiling gently at the pride in his voice, Sharon pulled off the box on the very top and clutched it firmly against her body. She could see his face after that, beads of sweat on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"Thanks, Captain."

"How is Robbery/Homicide treating you?"

"It's great!" He grinned. "Kinda strange, got lots to learn still."

"You're the Incident Commander now, is that right?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah. Better paycheck but it comes with a ton of paperwork I really had no idea Lieutenant Provenza filled out every week."

"Hmm," Sharon hummed. "Well. Congratulations, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Captain."

The elevator dinged, this time on their floor. As they stepped out, Gabriel nodded at the box. "If you can just..."

"Of course." Sharon lifted the cardboard box up and balanced it carefully on the very top.

"Thanks!" He threw over his shoulder as he left down the hall.

Sharon went the other way, to the right, using her key card to gain entry to the reception area. A maintenance man was scraping Will Pope's name off a glass panel, Margaret still sat behind her desk, with her usual look of polite indifference.

"Chief Johnson? I have Captain Raydor for you," she said into the phone then nodded and hung up. "She's expecting you."

Chief Johnson was expecting her? Sharon swallowed. She had been summoned by Pope, not Brenda, and the unexpected change of plans gave her pause. Reluctantly she opened the door and stepped in.

Pope was there, standing next to Brenda who was barely visible amongst the boxes on the desk. She sat in the big leather chair, it nearly swallowed her, and the blonde looked comically small in it.

On the desk, centered perfectly, sat a glass name plaque - 'Assistant Chief Brenda Johnson'

It was almost as if this was permanent, as if Brenda was here to stay, making herself at home.

But they both knew that wasn't true.

"Chiefs," she said.

"Captain, have a seat," Will said.

Sharon's eyes wandered to Brenda as she lowered herself into one of the chairs. The blonde looked as if she was about ready to throw up her breakfast.

 _Oh, god_. Visions of 'Traffic Division', of demotion...or worse, early retirement, shot through her mind.

"As you know, the Department will be undergoing some serious reorganization over the next few weeks."

"Yes, Chief," she said dutifully and looked at Brenda again who had plastered a smile onto her face.

He cleared his throat. "Chief Johnson?"

"Oh, yes...um," Brenda said, scratching the surface of the desk. "Cap'n Raydor, Will and I have-I mean, Chief Pope and I have, after careful consideration, decided on my replacement. Which will be you, if-if you would want-"

 _Me?_

"What Chief Johnson is trying and failing to say, is that even she can't do two jobs at once and, after much deliberation on her part, as she insisted she make this decision herself, she has appointed you as her most suitable candidate to whom she may give up control of her squad...very, very reluctantly."

Sharon thought she was hearing things. "Me?"

"Yes." Brenda nodded. "I've thought about this long and hard, and I realize I should've involved you in my decision makin' process, maybe, but, Sharon, you're it."

Sharon blinked; how often had she heard the word unpromotable? Spoilt goods. How often had she been told that if she was looking for a change in scenery, she might as well quit?

And what about Dolan, who was supposed to be getting this job?

She looked at Brenda who smiled at her and then Sharon realized that she had earned this, that Brenda knew that and also...that Brenda had picked her.

"Okay," Sharon said and smiled back. "Well, we better find a replacement for myself then."

Chief Pope seemed pleased with it all, mostly himself, and nodded...satisfied. "Captain, I suggest you vigorously shadow Chief Johnson over the next two weeks to gain insight into how Major Crimes works and to, hopefully, make this transitioning period as smooth sailing as possible."

"Of course."

"Well, congratulations. Um. Brenda? I'll see you at three."

"At three, Will, I promise."

He grabbed a box and then left.

As the door closed behind him, Sharon whipped her head back around and stared at Brenda, wide eyed. "You are kidding me."

"I am not! Congratulations, Sharon, you deserve this."

"Oh, I know I do," she said, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. "I just never thought that..." She trailed off and let her eyes roam around the room. "So...I see you're moving in."

"Oh, no," Brenda said, groaning, "this is all Will's stuff. And he gave me this stupid name plaque that'll only be good for about a month."

"I think it's nice," Sharon said, eyeing it up. "So. Actually, I do have a few people in mind that would be suitable replacements for FID. Of course, Commander Parker might have an idea or two as well."

"Alright," Brenda said and got up, so Sharon did the same. "Why don't we talk about it on our way to my-I mean, your office."

"Sounds great."

"But don't get too excited, I haven't even emptied my drawers yet."

"Don't worry," Sharon said, "I didn't think I was going anywhere. Oh, god...do you think I can bring my filing cabinet? I'd rather not tackle that."

Brenda snorted as she stepped around the desk, then her face changed, her whole demeanor, and her eyes looked as if she was saying goodbye, as if she was packing up and going on a far-away voyage.

"Hey," Sharon said gently and opened her arms.

The blonde leaned into them, her own arms winding around Sharon's shoulders, holding her tightly. "Just...take care of 'em, okay?"

"Of course," Sharon vowed. Of course she would. After a moment, she drew back, her hands resting on the swell of Brenda's hips. The blonde's eyes had glazed over with tears and her bottom lip wobbled.

"Honey," Sharon said then, "This is not goodbye. It's just...so long."


	2. Organize

Organize

\- Organization makes a system of many appear fewer -

Today was her first official day at her new job.

So far, the anticipation hadn't killed her but her nerves surely would.

Brenda smoothed her hands down her skirt again, a black thing with a black blazer. 'They wear suits at the FBI', Fritz had said, so there she was, complete with a white blouse. Brenda felt ridiculous, as if wearing a costume. She had felt that way when she had still worked in Washington - people there dressed very well.

Blowing out a deep breath, Brenda watched the numbers on the elevator as they ascended to her floor. The thirteenth - wohoo!

As it dinged, Brenda stepped out and was immediately blind-sided. "Chief Johnson!"

The blonde whirled around, forcing a hopefully natural smile onto her face. "Director Faulkner."

"Just the woman I wanted to see." He smiled back at her, his blue eyes shining with mirth at having caught her sneaking in late. "Your office, if you don't mind?"

Brenda nodded dutifully, hoisting her purse up higher and followed him along the marble floored hallway. Her heels clicked and clacked as they passed mostly glass walled offices to, what Fritz had called, 'The Inner Sanctum'.

At first Brenda had puzzled over the peculiar moniker but then, when she had seen it, everything had made perfect sense.

The upper tier was half moon shaped.

Her office was smack in the middle of it, overlooking the round bullpen below on the twelfth floor. On her door it said 'B. Johnson' and underneath 'Section Chief'.

Everyone was always hard at work - if it was her presence, Brenda wasn't sure. First the movers, who had taken all of Counter Terrorism's stuff and had moved it to a bigger, better place, then the cleanup crew who had polished all the windows and every inch of glass.

Then the movers in. One night she had come in and there were new desks in the bottom circle - 'The Sanctum' - neatly arranged for her future Agents. How many people was she to supervise?! Brenda had guffawed and counted, three times.

42\. Exactly 42.

Then the techs had arrived with new computers, screens, boards - Brenda wasn't even sure what it all did, let alone how it worked. Hopefully one of these 42 people could tell her or, better yet, do it all for her.

As they arrived in the reception area, her secretary giving them both a wane smile, Brenda could feel eyes on her, staring up from the bullpen, as she still liked to call it. She had yet to introduce herself, mostly ducking in and out discreetly.

The thing was, she was terrible at first impressions. She just, try as she might, never left a good one. Even her secretary, who had one day appeared as if out of nowhere, had given her a bland look before Brenda had had the chance to say anything.

Later, and Brenda had to suppress a smile every time she saw the girl, it transpired that Suzanne's quiet seething was actually directed at Faulkner.

"Morning, Suzi," he said just like he did every time he showed up at Brenda's office. It was the third time around, last week, when he had left after a short progress meeting. Brenda had seen him out, stack of files under her arm for Suzanne to copy and Faulkner, as he had left, had said, "Bye, Suzi," and had waltzed down the corridor.

The Asian girl had huffed and puffed, pushing her glasses up and Brenda had looked down at her, baffled and had asked, "Somethin' the matter?"

"It's Suzanne," she had said immediately, glowering. "My name is Suzanne."

Brenda had smiled widely, her cheeks coloring with amusement and had dropped the files onto the neatly organized desk before her. "Well, Suzanne," she had said slowly because, as much as Faulkner annoyed the feisty girl, Brenda had taken to calling her 'Miss Chen', which had seemed to be equally as undesirable. "Mind copyin' that?"

So, Suzanne did not want to like her but, and Brenda considered it a small consolation, they shared the occasional secretive smirk behind Director Faulkner's back who seemed hell-bent on holding onto old-fashioned ideas.

Brenda also had to admit that she may have given Suzanne the same bland look when she had first appeared because the idea of having a secretary, a watch dog almost, who sat in front of her office from 9 to 5, just did not appeal to her. However, and Brenda felt a little guilty about that, they had come to the understanding that if Fritz called on her extension - or anyone, for that matter - and Brenda failed to pick up on the 5th ring, Suzanne would dutifully inform whoever that the Chief was in a meeting.

Most of the time though, wherever she had started a new job, she had been met with animosity. A great example was Flynn's initial hatred of her.

Things had changed though, and she didn't hold grudges - a waste of time, really - and she had earned his trust, as did he her's. It wasn't as if Brenda had expected instant admiration or instant trust but professionalism - was that too much to ask for?

So she had avoided her new subordinates. Had avoided office politics because, maybe, one of them was supposed to have this job after Will had turned it down.

In her office, which was still littered with boxes, Faulkner pointed at the print she had hung up behind her desk - Los Angeles, engulfed in the bright orange evening sun.

"Nice touch," he said and looked for somewhere to sit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Let me just...move all that." Brenda shifted a large, white cardboard box from the chair to the table in the corner.

There was a knock on the door, hollow and loud, thanks to the frosted glass pane.

"Ah, there she is," Faulkner said and smoothed his tie down - he was married, Brenda could tell by the tie that matched his ice blue eyes perfectly, as well as his silver mustache and what was left of his hair.

A woman entered, strawberry blonde, pretty in a way and very close in age to Brenda herself. The blonde immediately recognized her, having seen her a few times downstairs. She had an office right opposite, one floor down, and some nights she sat at her desk, typing away on her computer. She had reading glasses and always carried a tote of some description. Leather, big and roomy, sort of vintage looking. And she always chewed the ends of her pens.

She always looked well put together, always wearing suits - skirts, mostly - yet her messy curls, pulled back into an unruly bun, gave her an aura of familiarity, of friendliness...of being 'other', somehow.

"Good morning," she said and smiled, cups of coffee in her hands. "I didn't know how you take yours, Chief, but I heard you had a penchant for sugar."

Oh, she was nice. Brenda could just tell. One of those nice people who got you coffee for no reason, someone who had granola bars and orange juice for breakfast and worked out three times a week. All in all, she thought, she looked like somebody who excelled at first impressions.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," Brenda honeyed and took the cup.

"Thanks, Bridget."

 _Bridget. Right._

"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Doctor Beaudoin," Brenda said and she realized she actually, kind of meant it. As _Bridget_ was so nice. They shook hands. The woman's grip was firm, confident and lasted for just the right amount of time.

"Likewise, Chief," she said and smirked. "We seem to have missed each other the past couple weeks."

Perhaps not so nice after all, Brenda thought as she dwelled on the girlish smirk on Beaudoin's face. She could just tell, even from that tiny little crack in the otherwise cool visage, that _Bridget_ knew exactly why Brenda had failed (not neglected) to come on down there and introduce herself.

The blonde felt immediately intimidated for reasons she couldn't quite grasp, and then just resorted to a honey-dripping smile that, more than likely, gave her away. Brenda realized she had miscalculated yet didn't know how to rectify it.

There went her first impression.

"As you know, Chief Johnson, Bridget here is your team leader. Most of the personnel has been carefully chosen by her. That reminds me, I've got a young kid coming in. I think he'd make a great asset."

"Oh?" Beaudoin said, even though Faulkner hadn't been talking to her. "I thought we were up to capacity."

Faulkner chuckled. "Trust me, I couldn't keep him away if I'd tried."

"Oh, boy."

"He should be here in twenty." He glanced at his watch, a vintage piece and maybe a family heirloom. "Well, I thought maybe you could show Chief Johnson around, hmm? Introduce her, show her the ropes and such."

"Of course, sir," she said, glancing sideways at Brenda.

"Great," he said, "And thanks for the coffee." With that he left and Brenda took a moment to study the woman carefully, calculating.

She was hard to read, Brenda had to give her that.

"Right," Beaudoin said, a sort of get-up-and-go-attitude to her voice, and smiled. "Why don't we start with my field agents?"

"Sounds great." Brenda got up, grabbed her purse and coffee, and followed the blonde out of the office. Beaudoin led the way, while Brenda contemplated the tight skirt she was wearing. Underneath, the blonde was pretty sure, she probably hid a whole lot of spandex.

They reached the long flight of stairs winding itself along the window panes. Brenda made sure to be careful on their descend into the _Sanctum_ , much like Bridget who, the blonde noted, wore heels higher than was healthy.

Bridget was short, and Bridget knew that.

Brenda bit her lip on their way down, sidling up to the other woman with her returned air of confidence. "So...you know most of 'em? I mean, you hand picked 'em..."

"Oh, yes," Beaudoin said, her voice smooth and smoky. "I don't know the new kid, oh, and-there she is," Beaudoin pointed at a young woman sitting at a desk in the central bullpen. "That's Amy Sykes. She transferred here from San Francisco. I hadn't met her before but her jacket looks promising. You've read the personnel files, I hope?"

"The first thing I did," Brenda said, hoping that her open and honest answer would somehow build a bridge. "BA in administration from Berkeley, two years as an Army MP, a stint in Counter Terrorism."

"That's right..." The Doctor stopped as they reached the bottom, eyes narrowed, and leaned closer. "She tries really hard to fit in but I think she could use a newbie to bond with."

Brenda nibbled her lip - she wasn't one to meddle in the personal relationships or the inner dynamics of her colleagues; perhaps that could be Bridget's job. "Maybe have the new kid sit opposite."

"Good idea," Beaudoin said, even though they had both had the same thought. "C'mon, I'll introduce you."

In a way, Brenda was grateful. Perhaps, with a person such as Bridget Beaudoin introducing her, the first impression she'd leave wouldn't be all bad.

"Agent Sykes?"

Amy Sykes shot out of her chair as soon as she heard her name, hands clasped behind her back. "Yes, ma'am?" Her eyes widened as they settled onto Brenda and her posture perfected itself just a little bit more - she was nervous and very anxious to please yet her put together demeanor suggested a hard earned confidence.

"I'd like you to meet Chief Johnson, our new Division Chief," Beaudoin said, not at all fazed as the younger woman towered over her.

"Ma'am," Sykes said and offered her hand. Brenda took it and gave the woman a pleasant smile. "It's an honor to meet you. I've heard so much about you."

An honor? It made Brenda wonder what exactly she had heard. "Thank you, Agent Sykes. I hope you've settled in?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just familiarizing myself with the new objectives Doctor Beaudoin has drawn up for us."

Her desk was indeed littered with paperwork, a picture frame sat in the corner - her parents, maybe? - and the laptop the FBI had issued her was fired up and ready to go.

"Well, it was nice meetin' you, Agent Sykes and I'm sure we'll see lots more of each other in the future."

"Likewise, ma'am." She gave a small smile.

They moved along, past the empty desk which had been used as a dumping ground for everyone's overflow.

"Javier?" A man swiveled around in his chair. He was in his late forties with dark brown and silver hair. And he wasn't wearing a suit.

Brenda bit down on her lip as she took stock of his casual outfit, right down to his leather boots. As she studied him, wondering about the rebelliously undone top button of his crisp white shirt, Brenda found nothing but his outside appearance giving anything away.

"Mind shifting all of that?" Beaudoin meant the mess on the supposedly unoccupied desk.

"And do what with it?"

"How about you enter it all into the database, hmm? This is the 21st century."

The man grinned, good-natured, and scratched his graying beard that was very neatly trimmed. He cared a great deal about what he looked like, Brenda could tell but, and that seemed to be even more important to him, he cared about his first impression which, in his case, was his appearance. "Chief Johnson," he said, getting up. "Javier Navarro."

"Nice to meet you."

He was a Special Agent, she remembered, from San Diego, with an impressive track record. As they shook hands, his grip surprisingly warm, Brenda wondered what in the world had happened to him. She recognized the look in his brown eyes, the tendency to use his appearance as a mere means to lower peoples' expectations.

Brenda, suddenly, felt overcome with this dark, heavy, almost paralyzing feeling; he had seen things, like Brenda had seen things, done things that would always stay with him. She realized in that small instance, that they were alike.

"Get this done," Beaudoin said, flicking her hand at the paperwork as they parted, effectively startling the blonde back to reality.

Brenda followed her and contemplated whether to address what she had observed or not. "You known each other long?"

"We used to work together," the other woman said with a tight smile.

"You were friends?" Were, Brenda chose that term deliberately.

Beaudoin stopped and turned to her, her eyes cast down, her hands behind her back, then she leaned closer again, almost stiffly, and said, "He put in for Team Leader, too."

"And now he don't like you no more?" Kindergarten, really.

Bridget's eyes crinkled at the corners, her cool features transforming and allowing a glimpse of something youthful, of mirth and affection. "Let's just say, his ego will need some time to swell back to its usual size."

Brenda bit her lip, swallowing a chuckle. "Oh."

"Mmh hm." The blonde nodded then continued in her more measured tone, "He's a great agent though. Spent most of his career in Human Trafficking. Did some highly successful undercover ops but can't type on a keyboard to save his life."

Brenda nodded - she had read about that. Not the computer part, although, she could sympathize with that.

"Okay. How about we have a look at the magical world of computers?"

"Magical?" Brenda grumped. "More like mystical."

"Tell me about it."

They stepped through a glass door off to the side that Brenda had marveled at countless times from the thirteenth floor. There was always a light on which meant the place was never really dark, not even at night.

Inside, the air felt dry and electric, and Brenda then understood why it was all contained behind glass walls - the hum of the computers and equipment would drive anyone crazy.

"Hello?" Beaudoin called into the room. "Sam?"

A head popped up from behind massive machinery. "Oh!" Samuel Berkowitz, the unit's analyst, shimmied out from between whatever he had been working on. His expression was one of shock, as if he hadn't expected visitors and had been caught in the middle of something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

Brenda thought he looked almost comical wearing a burgundy bow-tie and a short sleeved shirt - his appearance reminded her of her 6th grade chemistry teacher.

"Hi!" He said, shimmying out from between his equipment and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Oh! Chief Johnson!"

It seemed everyone knew her here, or at least what she looked like. "Mister Berkowitz."

"Oh," he said, stuffing his hands into his lab coat. "Just Sam. Everyone calls me Sam...ma'am."

Brenda smiled winningly, mainly because she could see his obvious discomfort but also because she was intrigued as to what he would say next, leaving the silence to stretch until he couldn't bear it any longer.

"It's just that, you know, Berkowitz."

"Berkowitz?" Brenda repeated innocently.

"Yeah," Samuel said, face blank. "Like the serial killer."

Now, she was confused. "You mean, the Son of Sam?"

He stared at her and then at Beaudoin and said, huffy, "I'm never going to forgive Mother for that."

"Your Mama?" Brenda intoned, trying to keep the bemusement out of her voice - he was nearly her age, after all.

"It's just...y'know. Just call me Sam. And uh," he pulled his round glasses off, polishing the lenses vigorously. "I am totally oversharing here, aren't I?"

For heaven's sakes, Brenda thought and looked around, that _man_ was operating all this? "My..."

"I know, right?" Sam smiled widely, almost greedily, his hand caressing what looked like a time machine.

The blonde tried her best not to laugh at him - he had obviously been chosen for a reason, or at least she hoped so. All that had made sense in his file had been the word 'MIT'.

"What are you working on?" Beaudoin asked, bemused and desperate to change the subject.

"Oh. Well. I was just cross-referencing known offenders with unsolved child abductions. I'm using the NGI database to compare their facial structures to composite sketches."

"That's a bit of a long shot," Brenda commented as the faces whizzed past her on a big screen. "Any luck?"

"Maybe." Sam said and turned one of his screens around. "Look at this! Uncanny, huh?"

There was a definite resemblance, the blonde had to admit.

"I'm going over the evidence logs, see if any of the stuff found in his car and trailer match anything in the Stolen Property Database and the open case this sketch is from."

"If you need any help, let me know, okay?" Bridget gave him an indulgent smile - she seemed to have a soft spot for the guy - and made for the door again.

Brenda followed. "Nice meetin' you, Sam."

"Thanks, ma'am. Likewise."

As they stepped out, the door closing with an odd suction sound, Brenda bit down hard on her lip.

"He's very...adept," Beaudoin said almost defensively.

"Oh, I'd been wonderin' why he wasn't in the field," the blonde shrugged. "Now I know why he failed the psych eval...twice."

Bridget frowned, "He's scared of guns, too."

They ascended a short flight of stairs where Beaudoin pointed at a door. "That's my office. But you already knew that."

Because Brenda had been watching her, that's what the woman really wanted to say. Perhaps she was just teasing, friendly banter, or perhaps she was hinting at the fact that Brenda had avoided her, and that Beaudoin knew exactly why.

"Oh," the other woman said and Brenda craned her neck to see what had gotten her attention.

Somebody was in her office.

Bridget opened the door and leaned in. "Can I help you?"

"Hi. Good morning, I mean."

Brenda instantly recognized the voice. An entirely involuntary smile broke out on her face and she brushed past Beaudoin just to confirm what she already knew.

There he stood in a dapper blue suit, his hair in perfect place, his beard neatly trimmed. He looked stylish and smart, completely different to the young man she had met before.

"Ricky! I thought that was you! What a surprise!" For the very first time that morning, Brenda felt as if she had gotten a hold of the reigns.

Ricky didn't seem surprised at all to see her, his features bright and sharp yet with that genuine and gentle demeanor that Brenda had so appreciated.

"Hi, Brenda," he used her name, not her rank, keeping up their tentative familiarity. "I went to your office but your secretary said you were out..." He trailed off and picked up his briefcase. "It's great to see you. Mom says 'hi'."

 _Oh. Sharon._ Brenda felt something inside herself immediately soften, she couldn't help that, not anymore, and she was afraid other people might notice.

"How's she gettin' on? She like the new job?"

"I think so. I hardly get to see her now."

Brenda nodded. "Major Crimes will do that," she said, the regret nearly palpable. "Tell her I said 'hi', too."

"I will," Ricky said gently, something in his eyes changing, clouding over with something he didn't say.

Brenda nodded again then remembered the third person in the room. "Oh, I'm sorry. Doctor Beaudoin, meet Ricky-I mean, Richard Dwyer."

"Pleasure," Bridget said coolly, face unreadable, and shook his hand.

"Um. So. Where do you want me?"

Before Bridget could say anything, Brenda stepped in. "Just over there," she said. "Opposite Agent Sykes. Right behind the grumpy guy."

"Thanks. I'll see you later...Chief."

He walked off, confidence in his step. He would get along perfectly, the blonde just knew it.

"He has some sort of computer science degree," Brenda said to Bridget. "And he speaks Spanish."

"Ah."

"I used to work with his mother." The minute Brenda said it, she realized she shouldn't have, not in that way, because it was a gross understatement and, from the look on Beaudoin's face, it begged the question why she felt the need to downplay their relationship.

She was smart, Brenda really had to give her that. Beaudoin could read people, just like Brenda could - open books.

"Um. Okay. How about we finish off down here and then I can take you to the lab?"

"Sounds great."

They stopped in front of another door. Bridget knocked and then entered. "Lou?"

Lewis Palmer. Brenda remembered his file. Nearly 20 years in Missing Persons in various field offices across the country. Bridget knew him very well it seemed, referring to him as 'Lou'.

The African American man had a portly stature, his eyes a deep brown - kind looking, in a way. He reminded Brenda of her Daddy and the blonde couldn't help but like him immediately.

His lips formed a smile, the graying mustache stretching as his face transformed. He rolled his chair back and stood. "Chief Johnson. What a pleasure to finally meet you."

They shook hands and then Brenda's phone rang. "Oh," she said and deposited her coffee cup on his desk, right on top of a stack of files. "Sorry." As she found her phone in her big purse and glanced at the screen, Brenda deflated instantly.

"Chief Pope," she mumbled and bit her lip.

"You're getting a call from the Chief of Police?" Bridget asked.

"Oooh! What does he want?" The blonde answered. "Good morning, Will, this is a surprise!"

She kept her voice cheerful, and she used his first name deliberately. She didn't need to throw it in anybody's face but Brenda figured she could use the extra edge, with Bridget at least.

"Morning, Brenda." He sounded serious.

"I'm guessin' you're not callin' to ask how the new office is."

"I'm afraid not. Although...did you get the flowers?"

"I did. Thank you." The blonde eyed the two occupants of the room and decided to turn around, just to give the illusion of privacy. "So. What's happened?"

"The LAPD just issued an Amber Alert. I wanted to give you a heads up."

"Okay." And?

"Raydor called in assistance from the FBI-"

"And you called to make sure I can play nice."

Will sighed on the other end. "I wanted to make sure you'll be okay, what with, you know."

Brenda rolled her eyes - even now he wanted to micro manage her? She did realize why he would be nervous: working with her old squad and the woman who had taken her place. And the new job he had personally recommended her for.

If anything, what Brenda said and did should reflect on herself. Not on him. He didn't own her.

"It's fine, Will. When can we expect the call?"

"Any minute."

"Okay. Thank you, Will."

"No problem," he said. "Hey, uh, maybe we can get coffee sometime?"

"Of course." As she said it, Bridget's phone started ringing. That was it then. "I gotta go, Will. The call's comin' in."

So that's how they wanted it to be from now on - Beaudoin got the call, not Brenda. Because she was supposed to fill out reports, manage personnel and keep an eye on budget. No. No, no. The blonde nibbled on her lower lip as the doctor pressed the phone against her ear and walked out into the bullpen.

Brenda followed her, and so did Palmer. "Okay. Thank you, sir."

Probably Taylor, Brenda grumped internally then her mind focused on the task at hand.

"We've got an Amber Alert," Beaudoin announced. "The LAPD's sent us a summary, can someone get that up on the screen, please?"

"I got it," Ricky said from behind his new desk opposite Sykes. "One sec!"

The big screen lit up and a picture of a little boy appeared.

"Jason Duke. 11 years old. Last seen leaving for the school bus this morning one hour and fifteen minutes ago. Okay, let's do this."

"I'm comin' with you," Brenda said before the woman could issue any more orders. Her eyes swept over all the faces for just a moment in which she made herself not choose Ricky. "Agent Sykes, know your way around here yet?"

"I have GPS, ma'am," the young woman quipped.

"Good, you're with me." She smirked. "And if you're lucky, I might even give you directions."

Navarro chuckled as he gathered his stuff while Amy did the same, a faint smile dancing across her features.

"Agent Palmer."

The man hummed, eyebrows lifted.

"Can you hold the fort? Push through whatever we may need to assist the LAPD as quickly as possible and coordinate with other law enforcement? Please."

He nodded and then his eyes drifted to Beaudoin who stood beside her, hands on her hips.

"Ma'am. With all due respect," he said slowly, "Isn't that your job?"

Brenda looked at him, then at Beaudoin, who had clearly something to say, and lifted her eyebrows at the woman.

"It's just that...you're here in a supervisory function. We're your field agents, Chief."

"I know that," Brenda said, "Just happens that my supervisory style is much more up close and personal. Now. Shall we get goin' or just stand here and talk about the ins and outs of bein' a Section Chief? 'Cause that's what I made damn sure it says on my office door. Section Chief. Head of the Critical Missings Division."

She could tell Beaudoin was biting her tongue then the blonde woman nodded, momentarily letting go of her anger.

"Okay. Let's go."


	3. Time

Time

\- Savings in Time feel like Simplicity -

The FBI had much nicer cars than the LAPD. Although, Brenda didn't care much for SUVs and, if she lived at home, she'd have a hard time picking the right one in the morning.

But she didn't live at home, she stayed at the hotel still so there wouldn't be any car confusion any time soon.

Sykes was a confident driver; at least that was how Brenda chose to call it as she clutched at the car door and wondered whether to squeeze her eyes shut or not when they sped across an intersection, sirens blaring.

Outwardly, she tried to project a calmness she didn't feel. She tried to look confident and at ease, mind focused on their target - that's how they called missing people, a term most likely coined amidst Beaudoin's new objectives...whatever they were.

Brenda didn't mind. She didn't care for semantics, as ironic as that sounded even to herself because a lot of the time semantics played a huge part in how she dealt with interviews.

Beaudoin was good, Brenda had read as much but yet had to see her in action.

'She can talk you into anything,' Fritz had said forgetting perhaps for a moment that Brenda used to make a living with just that.

As they arrived, the press was already there. She saw Taylor running interference and, as he spotted her in the car, he gave her a nod.

The perimeter was big, half the road had been cordoned off. In the distance, Brenda spotted a command post. Apparently, or so Brenda had heard, Sharon had campaigned for one, highlighting its advantages for FID.

Will had given it to her after he had informed Raydor that she was too expensive to promote.

At least, that's what David had said.

"Chief Johnson, FBI," she said, having practiced it a hundred times in her head. _Say FBI, say FBI, say FBI_.

She saw Sharon then. The woman descended the steps to the house they were headed for. She stood out wearing a cream blouse amongst the mostly dark colors around her.

It was hot but not humid, the air dry on her skin. Brenda had left her jacket in the car wishing now that she didn't look so severe. It had helped, the blonde thought, when she had spoken to devastated mothers before, just to seem a bit more approachable.

"One minute, please," she said to the group trailing her and walked towards Sharon.

The brunette had spotted her and had stopped, just looking at her as if Brenda was a mirage of some sort.

"Cap'n Raydor."

Sharon smiled as they met on the sidewalk, despite the horrible circumstances and then said, almost drawled, "Chief Johnson."

"I understand you have requested assistance from the FBI?"

"Yes, I have," she said carefully. "We could do with the additional resources and the Chief of Police has impressed upon me that this new unit that you're overseeing is well equipped to deal with situations such as this one."

"It is," Brenda said evenly. "It's called the Critical Missings Unit."

"Ha," Sharon barked. "Okay. Well. Before we start, let me just reiterate that point."

"What point?"

"I'd just like to clarify that 'assistance' is the operative word here, even though kidnapping is technically a federal crime and therefore-"

"Sharon?" Brenda interrupted. "My resources are your resources and we don't even know yet if it's a kidnappin' or if he's just playin' hooky."

"Right," Sharon nodded then breathed out slowly, gathering her thoughts. "Thank you, Brenda. Now. How about we get you up to speed?"

The blonde brushed that almost happy feeling aside - she was glad to see Sharon but there was a boy missing, they had a target, and that was what mattered now.

Brenda gave Beaudoin a nod and then her team approached.

"Did you bring the whole FBI?" Sharon said under her breath.

"No. Just Doctor Beaudoin, Agent Sykes, Special Agent Navarro and..."

"Agent Dwyer."

"Agent Dwyer," Brenda repeated. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sharon glanced at her sideways then crossed her arms. "I was under the impression that we weren't speaking."

The blonde wanted to disagree because she wanted them to be speaking but Sharon had called once, a week after Brenda had left, and Brenda hadn't picked up because she had sat in a nice restaurant with Fritz.

It was her fault, really, and yes, they weren't speaking.

As she mulled that over in her head, her team falling into step behind herself and Sharon, she saw the brunette smile at Ricky, trying to keep a straight face but not entirely succeeding and Ricky fared just as badly.

"As much as I would like to exchange pleasantries," Sharon said, "Time is of the essence here. Lieutenant Flynn! Where are we on the bus driver?"

"Patrol picked him up five minutes ago." His eyes widened. "Chief!" Andy looked exactly as she had left him - not that she enjoyed the brief yet unexpected bout of jealousy.

"Lieutenant," Brenda kept it short. "You're still determinin' if the boy actually got on the bus?"

"Yes. Detective Sanchez is about to go to his school, he could use another pair of hands-"

"Agent Sykes."

Amy Sykes nodded, wide eyed but, without a doubt, an absolute 100% ready.

"Go with Detective Sanchez over there, find out if anyone saw the boy before school."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sykes set off and, as Julio spotted Brenda, he waved from a distance.

As good as it felt to be working with them all again, Brenda, upon reminding herself that it was only temporary, felt overcome with melancholy. It would get better, she vowed as if she had control over her emotional wherewithal.

"The parents?"

"Mother," Sharon said. "Provenza's with her but we're not having much luck getting through to her. She went from hysterical to completely catatonic."

"Maybe I can try," Beaudoin said then looked at Brenda, awaiting permission that she clearly didn't want to wait for, let alone have to ask to obtain. "I'm a psychiatrist."

"Go ahead."

Bridget marched off, her blonde wavy hair fluttering in the barely detectable breeze. Brenda, as much as it pained her to admit it, liked how she dealt with people - nice and polite yet with a directness that left little room for argument.

Much like Sharon.

She blinked; perhaps that was why Bridget rubbed her entirely the wrong way.

"The father?"

"We haven't found him yet. The address we got from the DMV is old, he hasn't lived there for six months. Maybe," Sharon looked up at Ricky. "Maybe Agent Dwyer can help Lieutenant Tao track him down?"

Ricky, unlike Beaudoin, didn't wait for permission. He merely nodded and made for the command post. Obviously his mother outranked everyone.

"Okay," Brenda rubbed her forehead. "Are you gettin' the K-9s down here?"

Sharon glanced at her watch like she had done countless times before, the gesture throwing Brenda back to a time when Sharon hadn't been more than a nuisance to her. "We pulled them off a scene up in Hollywood. They said they'd be half an hour, at least."

"For heaven's sakes," Brenda breathed and looked at Navarro who had taken his jacket off and had draped it over a shoulder. She could tell he was looking at her with more scrutiny than she felt comfortable with, the only barrier between them his large sunglasses.

"I can get the FBI's down here in ten minutes if I drop your name."

"Do that," Brenda ordered.

He nodded, almost casually, then whipped out his cell phone with an ease and a casual indifference that was almost inappropriate considering the situation at hand.

She could see the same thought cross Sharon's mind, the brunette's features betraying her disbelieve.

"Any chance I can have a look at the boy's room?" Brenda asked.

Sharon shrugged. "Be my guest."

Literally, the blonde thought to herself and followed Sharon into the small house. The decor was old, that was the first thing she noticed. Cream colored walls that had yellowed, old wood flooring that hadn't been treated for at least a decade.

The living room was small. A rug laid across the floor boards where she imagined Jason sitting on a bean bag, playing video games. His toys - impressive Lego structures - were cramped into the corner - that's what his mother spent any extra money she had on: her son.

The woman sat still on the old beige couch, staring into space. Her black hair was tousled and her clothes wrinkled. Her feet were bare. Beaudoin sat beside her, fingers pressed against the woman's wrist and eyes trained onto her watch, counting. Provenza stood in the doorway, turning as he heard them approach.

"Chief." He seemed relieved somehow that she was here. "She's completely out of it."

"I see you've met Doctor Beaudoin?"

"Bossy lady-"

"Lieutenant!" Sharon hissed but Provenza just shrugged, indifferent to her scathing tone. Beside her, the brunette sighed, resigned; so this was a regular occurrence. A game they played. Brenda bit her lip - it wasn't her place to reprimand him, Sharon would find it rude and patronizing.

"The bedroom's just through here," the Captain said, hand on Brenda's elbow.

The blonde nodded. "Thank you, Sharon," she said quite deliberately and walked down the dingy hallway.

His room was fairly tidy for an 11 year old, Brenda thought. His bed was made. "Don't you think that's odd?"

"The bed?" Sharon replied quietly, her tone hushed as if speaking out loud in this room could shatter Jason's fragile life.

"Captain Raydor?"

A young SID officer drew their attention to the boy's desk. "I found a phone charger right there."

The charger was still plugged in and had been hidden behind a stack of neatly arranged books. The rest of the desk wasn't particularly chaotic but reflective of an 11 year old's attempt at tidiness.

"He has a phone, we've been calling it but it's been going straight to voicemail," Sharon said.

"Is it on?"

"No."

"Maybe the FBI can help with that?"

"Okay," Sharon nodded. "That would be great."

"Um, Captain?" The SID officer held up the charger cable. "This is an Apple product. We found another charger, an older Samsung model next to his bed. So..."

So, Brenda mused, her eyes darting around the room. "There's not even a computer here. Most things in the house are old. The car's a rust bucket and the TV isn't even flat screen."

Sharon nodded slowly. "Then who bought him the iPhone?"

"Chief Johnson," Navarro appeared in the doorway. "K-9s are here."

"Okay, uh, officer? Bag us somethin' for the K-9s."

The SID officer abandoned the desk and went for the laundry basket. He opened a plastic bag and reached in, producing Batman printed pyjama bottoms. He then placed them carefully into the bag and sealed it.

"Here," he handed the bag straight to Navarro. "This should do."

"D'you want anyone to go with him?" Brenda asked, finding it easier than she thought she would to collaborate. Perhaps because it was Sharon.

"I'm still a Detective short," the brunette said with underlying anger. "You go, Agent."

Navarro nodded - if he were any more laid back, Brenda worried, he might fall asleep. She would have to address this even though, as much as she appreciated an even temper and controlled demeanor, this wasn't what she had had in mind.

"Okay," Brenda wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand; the house wasn't air-conditioned. "Okay. We need to turn this room upside down and find that phone, if it's here."

Sharon sighed beside her. "I'll get you another pair of hands in here," she said to the SID officer.

"Thanks, Captain."

The two women exited the bedroom and, in the back of her mind, Brenda was very aware that they were losing precious time. Her stomach knotted unpleasantly with dread as they walked down the hallway, past picture frames filled with Jason's smiling face throughout different stages of his life.

Beaudoin met them halfway to the living room with a hardened face, shaking her head.

"Anything?"

"Barely," she replied as quietly as Sharon had spoken earlier. "I gave her a mild sedative."

"Why in the world would you do that? If she gets any more sedate we'll be talkin' to her in two years time."

"I gave her the sedative because I have a medical degree from Columbia University."

Here we go, Brenda thought and made the mighty effort of not rolling her eyes. "Listen," the blonde said and stepped into Beaudoin's personal space, forcing the woman to turn her back on Sharon who, wisely, opted to turn away herself.

"Doctor. You've been incredibly helpful so far-"

"I'm beginning to realize that," she said, her eyes roaming across the floor boards which was when Brenda noticed, for the very first time, that her eyes were two different colors.

The blonde swallowed, her gaze lingering on Beaudoin's face - the woman was mulling her own statement over, sorting through her innermost thoughts with an introspective precision that Brenda almost envied.

"You weren't what I expected..."

Maybe, Brenda admitted, her avoidance had given this woman the impression that she had complete autonomy over the CMU yet, when she had stomped on her toes that morning in front of everyone, no less, she had inadvertently lived up to her own reputation.

"But then I turned out to be exactly what everyone told you to expect," Brenda concluded.

Bridget looked away, the specks of brown in her left eye sparkling as the sunlight hit them. "Most people think you're a...bitch," she said with a frown, as if the word itself tasted vile.

"Funny that," Brenda said, unimpressed. "That's exactly what they say about you." The blonde didn't know that for sure as she had avoided speaking with anybody which had, in hindsight, been a mistake but from what Fritz had said, Brenda had gathered that he, while respectful, wasn't Beaudoin's biggest fan.

"I didn't wanna say it but I outrank you. I was hired to run this unit whichever way I see fit and I suggest you get on the same page as quick as two shakes because I need you to do your job."

The woman looked her square in the eye, breathing evenly, the seconds ticking by. She seemed to study Brenda, reconciling expectation with the reality that stood before her. Then she nodded and breathed out slowly, as if letting go of whatever resentment she felt. "Yes, Chief. Of course."

"Okay." That Brenda could work with.

Beaudoin nodded again, a tentative, almost regretful smile directed at Brenda. Sharon was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze averted. "The sister should be here any minute," the doctor said. "She babysits Jason Monday to Wednesday night. The mother should hopefully be responsive shortly, as soon as the sedative kicks in."

The brunette nodded. "Okay. Good. I'll get another SID officer in here. We found a charger but no phone to go with it."

"Doctor, you stay with the mother, hopefully we'll know more soon."

"Yes, Chief."

Brenda left it at that and hurried down the hall followed by Sharon and past Provenza who shot them both curious looks.

Outside, the chaos kept spreading. More reporters had turned up, a news helicopter was circling the house and a sweaty Navarro trudged towards them.

"We got nothin'," he said immediately. "Looks like the kid walked down the road towards where the bus picks up then the dogs got confused."

"Confused how?"

"Ran back up the other side of the road. Maybe he was walkin' down there, stopped for some reason-hell, I don't know. Maybe a car pulled up and took him that way," he pointed in the opposite direction and shrugged.

Brenda turned to Sharon. "Do we know how many other kids get picked up there?"

"Five. I gave Julio their names."

"Good. Now. Agent Navarro, I want you to help Lieutenant Flynn canvas the neighborhood. He's workin' his way down the road, why don't you start knocking on doors from the bus stop up and meet him halfway."

"Yes, Chief." He jogged down the road, gathering several patrol officers on his way.

Meanwhile, Sharon had brushed past her and was marching towards the command post with a purpose. She spoke to an SID officer who rushed past Brenda as the blonde made to climb the three steps into the trailer.

Inside, Tao sat behind a computer, Ricky had a laptop out, typing away furiously. A big white board, attached to the wall of the trailer showed their progress so far.

8:15 - Jason leaves the house for bus.

9:10 - School notices Jason's absence.

And that was it. Meager. Next to nothing.

"Any luck with the father?"

"Jackson Duke," Tao said, pointing at a DMV picture on the board. He was a rugged looking guy, Brenda thought. "His rap sheet includes breaking and entering, possession of stolen goods, burglary, you name it." Tao cleared his throat. "Oh, hello, Chief."

"Lieutenant, good to see you," Brenda, despite trying not to, smiled widely. "So," she said, clearing her throat, "Any closer to findin' this guy?"

"Not yet," Ricky said. "It's like he dropped off the face of the earth except...uh, two months ago, I've got a Jack Duke arrested for drunk and disorderly up in San Francisco."

"That him?"

"Let me pull up the mug shot," Ricky said then nodded. "Looks like it. I'll alert the SFPD that we're looking for a Jack or Jackson Duke."

"Good idea, Ricky," Brenda sighed and realized in the same instance that Sharon had referred to him as Agent Dwyer yet here she was, throwing 'Ricky' around. The young man himself didn't seem to mind, at least Brenda hadn't seen any indication thereof.

"This guy is seriously difficult to track down," Tao interjected. "It begs the question whether he disappeared for a reason."

"Maybe he was planning this," Sharon said quietly. "Although, a guy like this, is he capable of sitting on that for six months?"

"He don't seem the type for long term commitment," Brenda mumbled then glanced at her watch.

Missing for over two hours. The blonde breathed out deliberately. "Any registered sex offenders in the area?"

"Several."

"Any stand out?"

"One guy. The victimology matches Jason's description. Boys between 10 and 12 years old, dark hair..."

Sharon nodded and pulled the piece of paper containing his rap sheet and personal information off the board.

"His parole officer is on his way."

"Good, let's pay him a visit..."

The door burst open once more and all eyes automatically shot to the young uniform in the doorway. She seemed momentarily startled by all the undivided attention then sought out Sharon.

"Captain. I have the bus driver here but he's pretty sure Jason wasn't on the bus this morning."

"How sure?"

"Well, we showed him a picture of Jason and gave him a description of what he was wearing. He knows the kid, ma'am, he's been driving this route for three years. He didn't see Jason at all and he never observed anything suspicious in the past."

"Anything on his background?" Brenda asked Tao, knowing he would have been thorough.

"The guy checks out."

"Okay," Sharon said as everyone visibly deflated. "Ask him to stay. We might have more questions later."

The patrol officer nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Brenda had known that they were probably grasping at straws.

Their 'visit' to the friendly neighborhood pervert hadn't produced anything pertaining to Jason's disappearance and while rehabilitation was definitely a thing, it had not worked for him.

As much as it had disgusted her, discovering stacks of photos taped to the underside of a drawer, Brenda wished she was still in the shabby apartment, turning the place upside down to find even more things that kept her thoroughly disgusted. It didn't make sense, even in the privacy of her own thoughts, that she wanted to abandon everything, abandon Jason, and instead subject herself to the depravity of a child molester.

Beside her, Navarro's knuckles had turned white as he steered the big SUV back to Jason's house. She wanted to wonder about him, wanted to ask if he was okay but said nothing and stared straight ahead.

An officer was handing out bottled water to everyone, Taylor gave a statement to the press which Brenda hoped was very, very brief. As she stepped out of the car, closing the door with a loud thud, the blonde's vision blurred alarmingly, as if she had been hit over the head and then it righted itself.

In her chest she felt that all too familiar burn of dread, of desperation and she wondered then, whether this job was even right for her. It didn't fit, Brenda thought, she didn't fit. And searching for people that hadn't done anything wrong, that could die if she dragged her feet for even a minute, filled her with a sudden anxiety that Brenda had yet to quantify.

"Here."

The blonde startled and looked down at the bottle of water, at Sharon's hand, at the small watch fastened around her wrist.

"Thanks," Brenda said and then contemplated saying 'I wish things were different' but, before she even could, her phone rang. "Johnson," she barked, pressing the phone against her ear and took the bottle of water, indulging for a moment in the feel of Sharon's fingertips against her own.

"Chief Johnson, it's Sam. Berkowitz. Sam Berkowitz."

"Yes, Mister Berkowitz."

"Uh. You know, uh, that guy, Lieutenant Tao, he said you needed me to find this phone. The whole thing was tricky, really, 'cause the phone's off or maybe it's damaged, I mean, it keeps dropping the signal and then it keeps coming back and-"

"Sam!" She interrupted. "Did you find it?"

After a pause he said, "Well, yes."


	4. Learn

Learn

\- Knowledge Makes Everything Simpler -

"You should be standing right on top of it, Ricky," Tao said into the mic.

Brenda squinted at the computer screen, her reading glasses perched low on her nose as she watched the little green dot - Ricky - nearly fully overlap the red dot - the phone. "Can you see it, Agent Dwyer?"

"No."

Sharon leaned in right beside her, her bare arm brushing against Brenda's. "It looks like it's in the middle of the road."

"Hey, Dwyer! Over here!" Julio called, his voice distorted by the sound of cars rushing by. "Buzz, you getting that?"

"Yes, Detective."

"Did y'all find it?" The blonde prodded, impatient. "Ricky?"

"Yes, Chief," he said after a long pause. "It's damaged. But I think, if we're lucky, the cyber guy-"

"Sam."

"Maybe he can recover the memory."

Her first instinct, in the spirit of conserving time, was to tell him to take the phone there straight away, yet, when she found herself looking at Sharon, eyebrows raised questioningly, Brenda couldn't help but feel surprised at her own compliance.

Perhaps she was getting better at this? Or maybe that Will wasn't there anymore, buffering the blow, and that she was indeed the FBI's Will, had something to do with her improved collaborating skills.

Or maybe the cold, hard facts that Director Faulkner had impressed upon her had changed her outlook - 'we rely on other law enforcement agencies to run this division successfully, so play nice', and, which he had repeated more than once, 'we don't have the money'.

"Get the phone to him," Sharon said, her features unreadable which was when Brenda realized she had been staring. "Detective Sanchez?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you and Agent Sykes canvass the area, please, and have Buzz take shots of all the traffic cameras in and around the intersection."

"There's a lot of shops here and a gas station down the road-"

"Get all the footage you can."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mike?" Sharon's hand came to rest on his shoulder, the gesture so casual when the actual contact was anything but. "Why don't you concentrate your efforts on compiling all the footage from our traffic cameras and see if you can't find out who tossed the phone?"

Tao smiled and nodded. "I'm on it, Captain."

"Hmm," Sharon hummed, straightening up, her hand slipping from his shoulder.

Brenda glared at the spot without actually meaning to then rubbed her temples, blushing at her inane jealously.

"What is it?" Sharon asked, scrutinizing her.

"Oh, I'm just not sure this phone will tell us anythin' we don't already know."

"Which is nothing."

Brenda shrugged, wiping at her eyebrow. "Why else give the boy another phone?" She could tell the thought had crossed the brunette's mind but, as always with Sharon, hope prevailed.

The blonde felt an affectionate smile tug at her lips but before she could embarrass herself the door to the command post burst open, revealing Navarro, his boots clinking noisily on the metal steps as he ascended.

"Did you find it?"

"Nah," he held up three plastic bags. "These though."

"Baseball cards?" Sharon questioned.

"Yeah. They were hidden inside a copy of 1980s baseball stats." He held up the book in question, also bagged and tagged. "He's got some albums, nothin' fancy like these though, they're worth some money. I mean, this Micky Mantle? Gets you about 3-400 at a pawn shop."

Brenda squinted at the cards; she didn't know much about the sport, just what Fritz had occasionally mentioned. Her daddy had always preferred football, but her brother, Clay Junior, he used to collect the cards, pouring over them at weekends, arranging and rearranging them in their folders.

With a sigh, she handed the cards to Sharon.

"I just thought somebody might've given them to him..." Navarro shrugged. "And why did he hide them?"

"Let's hold onto 'em then," Brenda said. "No phone?"

"It's not in that room, that's for sure. We turned it upside down, Chief."

"Can I borrow this for a minute?" Brenda nodded toward the baseball card Sharon was still holding.

"Of course."

The blonde took the card and made for the house, walking quickly. She hoped Beaudoin had the mother talking. Intellectually she knew that the Doctor was good, she had read her whole personnel file, but Brenda had always had the tendency to micromanage every detail, figuring that, if she missed something, she wouldn't have to be mad at anyone else.

People were unpredictable and unnerved her more often than not. She wasn't patient enough, Will had always said so, but having worked for the CIA, surrounded by people who just weren't patient enough, Brenda had had a hard time adjusting still.

It wasn't as if she thought that no one could do what she did, there were a few, but was Beaudoin that person?

A file didn't tell you anything - it merely highlighted a person's accomplishments and failures.

She would have to get to know these people somehow; one thing she had learned when she had accepted Will's job offer was that, even though her first impressions of people were usually right, there was always room in the margins.

In the living room, Beaudoin sat in the only armchair available. Provenza stood next to her as the blonde scribbled notes while the mother talked, holding onto the hand of her sister.

Progress, then.

"Susan? This is Brenda, she works for the FBI, too."

"Oh," Susan said, her voice faint. Her brown eyes seemed to be constantly filled with tears, red and puffy from all the crying. "Did you find out anything?"

"I might have," Brenda said, keeping her voice light and positive. "It's about Jason's phone. Can you tell me what make it is?"

"A Samsung."

"My husband's old phone," the sister supplied.

"All the kids have them now," Susan said, drawing in a shaky breath.

"Okay," Brenda nodded and stood right next to Doctor Beaudoin, hand resting on the back of the chair. "So he doesn't have another phone?"

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "I didn't want Jason to feel left out but...I just couldn't afford anything better than that."

"Another thing. Um. I see Jason likes baseball?"

"He plays in an after-school program, yes."

"And he collects cards?"

"Oh, well, his dad gave him those. They were Jack's..."

Brenda nibbled on her lip and lifted the plastic bag. "This one, too?"

Susan took the card carefully, her eyes scanning it. Brenda immediately saw the brief look of confusion crossing her features.

"It could be."

"Could be?"

"It's just that I thought Jack had taken it."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I remember him saying it's worth a bit of money. Jack gambles. And I could've sworn he took it just before Jason's eighth birthday and pawned it."

Brenda nodded. "D'you think he maybe got it back for him?"

"I wouldn't know how. I mean, Jack's broke. He's not paid a cent of child support...this doesn't make any sense..."

Brenda glanced at Beaudoin whose face was blank then back at Susan. "When was the last time you've seen Jack?"

"Maybe two or three months ago," Susan said. "He wanted to see Jason but Jason was at school."

"Is he allowed to see his son?"

"Of course," the woman wiped at the tears falling anew. "He just never does. You don't think Jack had anything to do with this?"

"We just wanna talk to him," Brenda said gently, "but we're havin' a hard time locatin' him."

"I don't know where he is," Susan gripped her sister's hand tighter. "Last time he was here he said he was going back to San Francisco to stay with his brother."

"What's his brother's name?"

"Dennis." Susan shrugged and blew her nose. "He's a dead-beat, too."

Sighing, Brenda rubbed her eyebrow, organizing her thoughts. "Okay, Lieutenant Provenza, could you stay here, please? Go over everything again."

Provenza nodded but Brenda could tell he didn't like it. "Doctor? With me, please."

Beaudoin got out of the chair, smiling reassuringly at Susan and her sister then followed Brenda down the hallway.

"What's going on with the Lieutenant?" She asked as they stepped outside.

"Lots of things, I'm sure," Brenda said evenly, "None of which matter right now."

Before Bridget could ask any further questions, Taylor stepped into the house. He wore his uniform, his rank insignia adorning his collar. Brenda didn't know whether to rejoice or to mourn the loss of his suits, especially since he had always been the only one, beside herself, to wear bright colors.

"Chief Johnson," he said in greeting. Behind him a man emerged, wide eyed, wearing oil-stained jeans and a plaid shirt.

"And you are?"

"Martin...Tinsdale. I-I'm Steph's husband. I came as quick as I could."

Brenda, somewhat irked by having him sprung on her like this, lifted an eyebrow at Taylor who gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You can tell us where you were this morning," Beaudoin asked immediately.

The blonde refrained from shooting the Doctor a glare; the offense wasn't the worst tactic in the book and although Brenda was aware that Beaudoin supposedly knew what she was doing, she couldn't help but feel as if she was being railroaded.

"At work? I've got a shop about five miles from here. Uh, listen, isn't there anything-"

"Your wife and your sister are in there," Bridget interrupted, a placating smile gracing her features. "I think Susan needs all the support she can get right now."

Martin nodded, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. "Okay..." He tried a half smile that turned into more of a grimace and brushed past them into the living room.

"I'll get Lou to check him out. And the baseball coach," Bridget said as soon as he was out of earshot. "Chief Taylor, is it?"

"Yes," he said, glancing at Brenda.

"Doctor Beaudoin. We spoke on the phone this morning."

"Right, uh, it's good to put a face to the name."

Beaudoin nodded, smirking, and shook his hand. "Right," she repeated. "Thank you, Chief, for the cooperation."

"Likewise." As Beaudoing left, phone going up to her ear, Taylor smoothed his tie down awkwardly, eyes avoiding Brenda as he composed himself. "Well," he chuckled as if he didn't know what to say to her. "I better call Chief Pope," he declared. "He's waiting for an update."

"Ah," Brenda said, biting her lip. "You do that."

"Good to see you, Chief."

"Good to see you...Chief."

* * *

"Okay," Sharon said. "8.15. Jason leaves for the school bus. The neighbor, two doors down, sees him as her daughter leaves the house. Then, some time between 8:15 and 8:30, another neighbor spots a blue or black SUV driving down the road and then back up again in quick succession-"

"That could be our car," Tao said. "We're going over all CCTV footage, Captain. Maybe we can find it."

"Good."

"Captain?" Ricky held up his cell phone. "They found the father. He has an alibi, what with being in San Francisco. He wants to come here and they can't hold him-"

"Let him come," Brenda interrupted.

"But what if he doesn't show?"

"Then we know where to start lookin'. Just make sure the SFPD is takin' him personally to the airport-"

"Can't we just fly the guy here ourselves?"

Brenda turned around and looked at Navarro who leaned, arms crossed, against a desk, nonchalant expression on his face.

"We can do that?"

"Of course," he said, "You just have to approve it, Chief."

Before she could say any more, and not that she was even entirely sure what her first response would have been, Beaudoin's voice, closer than expected, startled her.

"You have a budget meeting next week, remember?" The curly haired blonde said. "You'll be expected to justify all of the CMUs expenses which also happen to include air miles."

Brenda's jaw slacked at the audacity of it. Beaudoin looked neither smug nor pleased when Brenda glared at her with a mixture of incredulity and annoyance, on the contrary - she looked embarrassed.

The blonde admitted, albeit reluctantly, that the good Doctor may have a point and nodded, plastering a wide smile onto her face. It seemed like an opportunity missed, especially since Beaudoin had just made it so easy for Brenda to put her in her place but, and the blonde calculated the odds, it seemed wise to just be agreeable.

"Agent Navarro," she drawled because he could take a joke. "Where would we end up if we flew people here, there and everywhere?"

Navarro shrugged. "The Bahamas, Chief?"

"I'm more of an Italy kinda gal," she retorted and grinned.

Across the room, all eyes trained on them and their exchange, Sharon cleared her throat. "Chief Johnson?"

"Right. Doctor, have SSA Palmer wait for Jackson at the airport and escort him straight to um...Major Crimes as soon as he sets foot into Los Angeles."

"Of course, Chief," Beaudoin nodded and pulled out her phone, looking grateful for the reprieve.

"So, Sharon, where were we?"

Sharon just glared at her, disbelieve clouding her eyes. "I was just about to suggest that we pay the baseball coach a visit."

"Sam ran a background," Ricky said. "He didn't show up for work today and he cancelled practice."

* * *

"I take the back, you take the front," Julio said to Amy Sykes who rolled her eyes and looked as if she couldn't believe she was being bossed around like that.

"I'll take the window down the side," Navarro said, walking off and around the small, single story house.

Brenda sighed internally as she walked up the path with Agent Sykes. The sun was beating down on them mercilessly and Brenda had rolled up the sleeves of her blouse even further in a desperate attempt to cool herself down somewhat.

It made her think that, if Jason was out there somewhere, hurt, alone, and without water then...

The blonde discarded the thought and nodded at Sykes who then proceeded to knock on the faded brown door. There wasn't a sound inside, no movement as far as Brenda could tell yet the car was parked in the drive; a black SUV.

The blonde sighed and hammered on the door with her fist. "Yohoo! Mister Andrews! Are you home?!"

Beside her, Amy cleared her throat. She looked uncertain; not about the possible danger, the chance that Mister Andrews might make a mad dash for freedom but rather that she couldn't quite figure out how to be or what to do around Brenda.

The blonde bit her lip and pushed her sunglasses further up on her nose, annoyed. She had had all this years ago when she had first started at the LAPD; everyone had always tried to figure her out, pointlessly, really.

"Mister Andrews!" Brenda was about to knock again when the door flew open.

In the doorway stood a middle aged, balding, slightly overweight man, his face red, contrasting heavily with the white t-shirt he was wearing and the light blue boxers. "What?" He grumped.

"You called in sick today and we were just wonderin' how you were doin'?"

"Are you the job police? Listen, lady, I've got the flu-"

"You look fine to me."

He sighed, glared and then promptly attempted to slam the door in her face. Sykes caught it, her hand sprawled centrally against the wooden door. "Sir, can you please step outside?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"The FBI," Brenda said and presented her badge. "We wanna talk to you about Jason."

"Jason who?"

"Jason Duke."

"What about him?"

"He's missin'."

"What do you mean? Missing?" Andrews narrowed his eyes, stepping out onto the small porch. "He's missing? Since when?"

"When did you last see him?"

"Last week. At practice."

"Can you tell us where you were earlier this mornin'-"

"Wait a minute," he grumped. "Do you think that I had something to do with this?"

"Sir," Amy, hand on the gun holstered at her hip, stepped closer. "I need you to calm down right now."

"Look," he went on, "I was right here. Okay? I went on a bender last night...I was hung over, so I called Carl to take over practice tonight and called in sick at work. That's all."

"Then you won't mind if we have a look 'round your house."

"Of course I do mind-"

"What about your car?" Sykes pointed at it over her shoulder. "There's a boy missing here, remember that."

Andrews glared at her and then looked at Brenda. "Fine. Look in the car. But do not touch the stereo, okay?"


End file.
